Accidentally in Lust
by Genim Stilinski
Summary: Sam casts a love spell on Dean. Little does he know that if they don't follow through on the natural progression of their magically-induced relationship, they'll both die. WINCEST F or Die fic SMUT


A/N: This story contains **swearing, explicit material, and incest. **Don't like, don't read.

This piece was created for a challenge on the LiveJournal community Fuck or Die.  
Special thanks to my beta, LittleMissRosie.

* * *

Sam was researching some stuff for Bobby when he came across it. It was a small, leather-bound book with gold pressed letters entitled "Love Spells and Sexual Magic". He picked it up and opened it out of curiosity.

The first page he glimpsed, as he opened it at a random point somewhere in the middle, was a spell to increase pleasure during intercourse. Not immediately useful, but Sam filed it away in his brain for later. Then, he flipped a few pages, and found a detailed description of how to break latin-based sexual curses. Sam, once again, made a mental note of it. Flipping to the last page of the book, he found a more peculiar spell than the first two he saw. It was to make someone love you. Suddenly, the book was highly appealing.

The paragraph before the spell stated that all you needed to make it work was an item of great importance that belonged to the target person. You hold it in your hand while reciting the spell, and visualize them in your head.

Sam slammed the book shut, resisting the temptation to perform it now. He set it aside for later, and returned to the book of gypsy lore he was looking through before.

* * *

Dean carefully, methodically, laid out all of his guns on the full sized bed he and Sam shared when at Bobby's house. It was a tight fit, but Bobby said he'd let them put in two twins instead if they paid for it. Truthfully, neither boy cared enough to get around to it. They were too accustomed to living in one another's back pockets.

Soon enough, the bitch would want to sleep, so Dean had to work quickly to clean them all. He pulled out the cloths and gun oil, and began to disassemble and clean each part of each gun. By the time he was putting everything away, he heard the gentle thud of Sasquatch mounting the stairs. And yes, he'd been here often enough to tell the difference between Sam and Bobby coming up the steps.

Thus, he pushed off of his jeans, and crawled into the bed. He made sure there was enough room for Sam on the outside, and closed his eyes to wait for Sam to come up to bed.

* * *

Sam slipped into their dark room, trying not to let too much of the hallway light in. Dean was already in bed, and almost sounded like he was sleeping. But Sam knew Dean too well for that. Ignoring his faker of a brother, he snatched Dean's keys off the solitary nightstand in the room. If Dean had called him on it, he'd claim to need to get out for a while, or some other BS. But he didn't, and Sam left as quietly as he came. Dean didn't even bother to see what he took.

* * *

Now, it is only fair to say that Sam had the best intentions in putting a spell on his brother. He, despite his carefully crafted façade, had the same issues with insecurity that Dean did. In the years that preceded his stint at Stanford, Dean had begun to pull away from him; they weren't as they once were. Dean started hanging out with older and cooler kids (and many of them were ladies) in whatever town they happened to be in, and Sam was left to find friends of his own. This is not to say that Sam hasn't had any spectacular friends over the years, either. But none of them topped his brother.

Secretly, Sam had doubts that his brother still loved him the same as he used to. Dean _used to_ kiss Sammy on the cheek when he thought his little brother was sleeping. Of course, when he was old enough, he'd pretend to be asleep for that very reason. Now, he barely touches Sam. He _used to _follow every kiss with an "I love you," but wouldn't even say those words to Sam when either of them was near death. Gone was the brother Sam used to know.

It is also fair to say that Sam never knew how much Dean really loved him. He didn't know of the sick, perverted feelings he buried when he was old enough to understand how wrong they were. He also never knew how hard it was to stop giving the kisses, because it'd be one thing if he were sleeping. But, knowing full well that his brother was awake, and simply pretending with him just seemed to make it all the worse. Thus, Dean made it easier on himself, and hid all of it away.

He tried not to think too hard when they had to share beds. The one time he gave in and snuggled against Sam in the night, he almost didn't wake early enough to leave without Sam knowing. The last thing Dean needed was to get chewed out about his well-hidden cuddling tendencies, or worse, laughed at.

Then again, would it not be worse if Sam failed to do either of these things? Would that not mean that he (a.) didn't care, or (b.) returned his feelings? The rejection of it would be unbearable, and allowing the person you love most commit themselves to the darkest pits of hell was no better. Whatever happened, Sam could never know.

* * *

As Sam finished the incantation, he clutched the keys tightly in his hands, thinking of every little happy memory of Dean he could think of. He started with the last time Dean pulled off the road into a field for them to sit on the hood and look at the stars. And there was this moment- Lord know he could have imagined it- in which Dean looked over him, smile reaching all the way to his eyes, before gazing back upwards. For the miniscule amount of time that their eyes actually met, Sam saw the love that he was so desperately craving; it was as if they were young again, and Dean still openly showed his affections.

Then, he thought of his sixteenth birthday. He got his drivers license that day, and despite the fact that he has known how to drive for seven years already, he was still incredibly proud. Dean was, too. He showed it with beer and free cable he scored them that night, but Sam knew that Dean was secretly glad that he was able to have these normal things. That was the night that his brother told him that he should make something with his life. It didn't make any difference that he forgot in the morning, or that he still got angry when Sam went to college. It was knowing that, at the time, Dean cared enough about Sam to let him go, that made the decision for him.

Next, he thought of when he was eight years old, and he was sick with something like the flu. Dean didn't seem to think that Sam was lucid enough to know how tenderly he was wiping the cool rag against his brother's forehead. He didn't seem to know that Sam realized he was with him the entire time, never leaving the bed more than a few minutes at a time. In the end, Dean ended up catching it, but that was just what he did…he cared for Sammy, no matter what.

And the last thing he thought of, before realizing that he probably gave enough thought for the spell to work, was the night that he told Dean how much he loved him. He knew that Dean was asleep, and dad was out, so he could say it freely. At all of 16 years old, he knew that no matter what, no one could be as good for him, and to him, as Dean was. Despite all the crap, all the times that he was ignored, the lack of kisses, and such, Dean would always hold a special place within him. He was the reason that the sun rose for Sam, and the one who chased away the nightmares after it set. He was the one who always slept on the bed closest to the door to protect his (not so) little brother. He did everything for Sam, even if he seemed to despise doing it.

Sam opened his eyes, dropping the keys to the floor as he felt a warm energy snake its way up his torso and around his neck, consuming him, before everything went dark and cold. He collapsed, vision spinning, until he hit the floor.

* * *

Dean woke the next morning feeling jittery, quelling his usual desire to sleep in while at Bobby's. He noticed almost immediately that the sheets beside him were cool, and they looked far less wrinkled than the ones on his side of the bed. This told him that Sam had never come to bed. Thinking back on last night, remembering Sam had taken his keys, he thought maybe Sam had gone out to get a bit of action, and had stayed the night. Then, Dean noticed a bit of anger within himself. Usually, it wasn't so bad. He tried to be happy on the rare occasions that Sam indulged in the female populous of whatever town they were staying in. It was somewhat tricky to pretend that he was okay with it, when he really just wanted to be that person for Sam. Typically it was bitter disappointment that was his immediate response, but never before had he been angry about it.

He trudged down the stairs, pondering what exactly it all meant, when he saw it- a limb, on the floor, through the entry to the study. He quickly ran in, finding that it was Sam. He clutched a book in one hand. It was in a language he didn't know, so he wasn't sure what it was, or if it were relevant. Then, he saw the impala keys on the floor beside him. His previous anger quickly turned to panic as he shook his brother to no avail. Sammy was out, dead to the world, and Dean couldn't think straight.

"Dean?" It was the voice of Bobby, their favorite hunter/surrogate father, and Dean knew that he'd know what to do.

"Sammy's out. I don't know what happened!" He sputtered, failing to keep the panic out of his voice.

Bobby rushed in to help, checking Sam for a pulse. Apparently, what he found was satisfactory, because he moved to pick the book out of the boy's hands. Noticing what it was, he spoke one word.

"Shit."

"What is it, Bobby?"

"He tried to use something out of this book. He didn't know, but I got this one on a hunt. I kept it because spells in it keep going bad, for both parties involved. By the looks of it," Bobby took the keys off the floor, "he used one on you. I'm not sure which one he could have possibly wanted to do on you, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, most of the spells in there require an 'item of great importance' from the intended target. Can you think of anything more important to you that your car?"

"Other than you and Sam, no."

"Bobby?" This time it was Sam who spoke, shocking the other men into silence as he picked himself shakily off the floor.

"What did you do, boy?" Bobby asked, eyes narrowing.

Dean began to shake, until he, rather uncharacteristically, hid behind Bobby, and peaked above his shoulder at his brother.

"Sammy? What spell did you use on me?"

"What? I didn't do anything!" Sam lied, slightly panicked, through his pearly whites.

"Sam," Bobby stepped towards him, officially invading his personal space, "Listen very closely to what I have to say. This could kill your brother; this could kill you! This book is bad news. It killed more than 12 high school students in Michigan last month, including the boy that was using it. If you used one of the spells, I need to know about it." He stayed firmly in place, staring the much taller man in his shameful eyes.

"Okay, I did. I really, really didn't mean to cause any harm." Dean whimpered slightly, still trying to hide behind the eldest hunter.

"How do we get rid of this?" Dean finally asked.

"Well, it depends on the spell. What did you use?"

Sam stared at the floor positively mumbling.

"Sorry, what was that?" Bobby questioned, slightly annoyed.

"I said I used the spell to make him love me." Sam squared his shoulders, and looked not at Bobby, but at Dean, keeping a sense of determination. He hated himself for what he did so stupidly, but he was certain that with a little help, they'd make it through.

"You do know that it meant romantic love, right?"

"Last night, I didn't care. I just wanted for him to look at me the way he used to…to tell me that he loved me, to show me, everyday. I didn't care that I didn't talk to him first, or that I was doing exactly the sort of thing we hunters frown upon. I needed Dean to be there for me, and he wasn't. Not anymore." Tears welled up, heavy in his lids, as he continued to stare deeply into his brother's green eyes. He hoped against hope that it would convey all that he couldn't say.

"Sammy…" Dean sobbed, finally moving out from behind Bobby to take his brother into his arms. They clung together for a moment, not allowing any space between them.

And then he felt it…Dean's hardening length against his own. He could only assume that the 'spell' was to blame. He leaned into the hand now caressing his face, closing his eyes.

"I've always loved you, Sam. I loved you like I've never loved anyone else. I kept away because I didn't want you to be like me."

"But I am, De…I've loved you too much since before I even knew what it meant." Bobby bowed out silently, letting them have the house to themselves. Hopefully, they'd naturally act on that which would break the spell without him having to sit them down to explain it.

Dean felt this strange pressure in his chest begin to build, licking at the base of his neck, and starting to hurt. "Sam, I'm not feeling so hot. I think we need to speed this along a little." Sam, still feeling monumentally guilty for what he had intentionally inflicted upon his brother, nodded briefly as his gaze fell to the floor momentarily before he nipped at Dean's neck and rolled his hips simultaneously. A soft moan was given in return, so he did it again.

"Shirt, off, Sammy." Dean gasped, pushing at the material on his brother's torso. Sam helpfully tugged it over his head, and followed it with Dean's. The elder brother pushed the younger backwards gracefully onto the sofa, pressing their lips together for the first time. It was like electricity, and yet, it fought back the pain. Sam parted his lips in open invitation, which Dean took advantage of immediately. It was something he'd always dream about, when he was lucky, and it was finally happening. And because it was born of the spell, he could, for the moment, not blame himself for what he was feeling.

Slowly, Sam snaked his hand between them and pressed the button on his brother's jeans through the slit of denim that held it. He listened as each tooth of the zipper pulled apart when he pulled at the zipper. And the move Dean did with his hips to help Sam pull both his jeans and boxers off just wound him up that much more.

Dean was a bit less hesitant when he removed Sam's jeans. He was a bit grabby with them until he could get his fingers around the zipper pull. Sam obediently lifted up when Dean yanked on the fabrics that separated him from what he wanted. Of course, the spell was in full affect now, and if he didn't fuck, or get fucked by his brother soon, he felt like his world would end.

He mouthed desperately at Sam's neck before pulling himself off the sofa. Sam looked a bit confused.

"Dean?"

"Gotta go get lube." He replied, clambering up the stairs to their room.

When he returned, he already had the bottle open, squirting some onto his lengthy fingers. Somehow, the sight of Sam, still on the sofa, gently palming his hard length got him even more enthused with the situation. Resettling over Sam, he kissed the other man passionately enough to distract himself from the burn of his own fingers stretching himself open. Sam knew what he was doing, and added a finger of his own to help.

"God, De-, so fuckin' hot like this." He breathed against his brother's ear. Dean merely grunted in response as he decided he was ready enough, and pulled his fingers away from himself.

"Need you, Sam." He gasped, sinking down onto his brother's engorged member. Sam moaned, reveling in the heat and tight squeeze of Dean around him. Sam laid back against the cushion, white-knuckling the sides of the sofa as Dean began to ride him. It was slow at first; long rolls of the hips, sweet drag sending pleasure through both of their over stimulated bodies. Then Dean started fucking him in earnest, rising up till the head of Sam's cock caught on the rim of his ass, and then slamming back down, as quickly as he could.

It was rough, but not hurried, as primal need overrode the desire for their first time to be loving and thorough. Sam's massive hands pulled his brother in for a kiss, all tongue and little finesse. Sam pulled Dean further onto his lap, thrusting upwards to hasten his impending orgasm. Dean cried out, arching his back and clinging tighter to Sam as he rode out his release.

"Dean, gonna-"

"Come on, Sammy, come for me." Dean coaxed, kissing down his brother's neck. Sam gave one final thrust before he came, filling Dean with his seed.

They collapsed in a heap on the sofa, not even bothering to part before they fell asleep. And when Bobby returned, he caught a glimpse of what had happened from the corner of his eye, but looked no further before retreating up the stairs. He was glad that the spell worked itself out, but was considerably worried for what the fallout might be. Dean was just as likely to have a freak-out as he was to just deny it ever happened.

* * *

Dean woke up sore…and a bit stuck to Sam. He knew full well what had happened, but it was all a blur. He might have dismissed it as a strange, wonderful dream if he hadn't woken up stretched out over his brother's naked body, but he did. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to think of it as anything but a good kind of pain. It meant that Sammy loved him the same.

Screw hell. He wouldn't let them take either of them there for this. And if hell were the price for even just one night with the man of his dreams, as silly as it sounded, hell was worth it.

Sam began to stir beneath him, so he stayed perfectly still. Dean didn't want to startle him.

"Dean?" He asked, squinting to adjust to the light in the room. It was definitely around midday, and he had fallen asleep. And then he realized the weight on top of him.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here."

"What happened?" He asked groggily

"You don't remember?" Dean replied, concern tainting his voice.

"I had this strange dream that I cursed you and we…wait…." He recalled that Dean was on top of him, and now noticed how very naked they both were. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"'Fraid not, Sam." Dean took that opportunity to gently lift himself off of his brother, failing miserably at suppressing a wince. He gingerly sat on the sofa beside Sam, facing towards him.

"God, Dean…I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me! I should know better than to use a spell."

"Well, yeah," Dean chuckled, "You should. But, I'm not complaining."

"Wait, you're okay with this?" He asked, searching his brother's eyes for any hint of a lie.

"God help me Sam, but yeah, I'm fine. Though, I really think we should get dressed before Bobby has to see our naked asses on his sofa." Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Alright Dean." He said, moving off the sofa to look for his boxers.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Sam stood in slight shock before replying, "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: Tell me what you think! Reviews are love, and critique is welcome!


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